


I Promise it is True (I'll Take Care of You)

by Plumcot



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Blow Jobs, Hucow, Lactation, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Praise Kink, Trans Character, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plumcot/pseuds/Plumcot
Summary: It's been a while since Martin's run-in with Jared, and the situation has become almost normal. Jon's gotten used to milking Martin. He might even call it a pleasant routine.But when Jon finds himself in the same situation, suddenly he's forced to experience things from the other side. And he isn't quite prepared for how much he'll enjoy it.(Fanfiction of Bit_Not_Good's Cattle series)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 17
Kudos: 138





	I Promise it is True (I'll Take Care of You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bit_Not_Good](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bit_Not_Good/gifts).



> This is heavily based off the [Cattle](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610434) series by [Bit_Not_Good.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bit_Not_Good/pseuds/Bit_Not_Good) I'd reccomend reading at least the first two installments in that series, otherwise this fic will make zero sense.
> 
> Also jsyk this won't be fully compliant with that AU just on the basis of me using some of my own headcanons (AKA I'm trans and I like to project onto Jon)
> 
> (Also yes the title is a TWRP lyric I'm not apologizing)

The thing is, Jon's always had a small chest. 

As a kid he had a vague idea that it was something he should be embarrassed about, but he couldn't really see why. He didn't have to wear a bra. He could wear shirts from the boy's section without it hanging weird. And it got him "mistaken" for a boy all the time in public, which always sent a thrill through him he couldn't quite place. Even after he'd grown up a bit and figured himself out, gotten on testosterone and all that, he'd never really felt uncomfortable with his chest. He considered it a blessing. 

He still considers it a blessing, weirdly, but for entirely different reasons now. He can't imagine how rankled he would've been if he'd gone through all the hassle of top surgery only to have it reversed by a hulking mass of bones with a cow fetish.

When he'd first stumbled into the institute, Martin had been the one to take care of him. He'd taken one look at Jon - shaking, disheveled, and with noticeably more weight on his chest - and had given him a look of such aching sadness that Jon had to cast his eyes downward. 

Martin had sat him down on the breakroom couch and made him a cup of tea. When he came back he sat down next to Jon and put one arm around him, lightly, just a gentle reminder that he was there. Jon had almost relaxed.

Then Martin sucked a breath through his teeth and said, "I can get you, um- I have some nursing pads?"

And Jon looked down, and saw the wet patches on his shirt.

He'd hid in his office for a while after that.

That was only yesterday, and nothing's gotten better. To say Jon is uncomfortable would be an understatement. His breasts are - well they're not huge, but they're far bigger than he's used to. They sit heavy on his chest, throwing off his posture. And he's never worn bras, so until he can get up the nerve to actually walk into the women's section and try some on, they're hanging free. And they're... they're _full._

Martin had warned him against manually expressing, said it wouldn't be as satisfying. Jon had tried it anyway. He'd only succeeded in making himself cry on the floor of his shower. 

So now he's just sitting here, gritting his teeth and trying to get work done while his breasts are swollen and aching and begging to be-

Jon slams his fist on the desk. 

Nobody's said it out loud but they all know what needs to happen. Elias keeps coming by and trying to coax him away from his desk, but Jon has held strong so far. Martin had already been to the room once that morning, and he'd come by Jon's office first expecting him to tag along, and Jon had just stared at the desk and said nothing until he left. 

He knows it has to happen. But by God, he will put it off as long as possible. With Jared, it was - well he won't lie, it felt amazing. But then he'd come back to his senses and immediately vomited from sheer panic. Through all the terror and pain of the entities Jon's one comfort had been that at least he had control of his own faculties. To have that taken away as well was too much to bear.

"Jon? Are you alright?"

Jon snaps his head up. Martin is standing in the door to his office, looking concerned. 

Jon grumbles. "Yes, I'm fine." 

Martin nods dubiously. "Alright... it's just that, I heard a pretty loud bang in here?"

Ah. Jon turns sheepish at that. "I may have. Punched the desk."

"I see." Martin sighs. "Look, Jon, you have to-"

"I know Martin."

"Do you? Because-"

"I'm fine Martin."

"Jonathan Sims!"

Jon jolts and looks up. Martin is looking down at him with his arms folded, and an expression on his face a bit like a stern nanny. 

Martin sighs and leans forward on the desk. "You can't carry on like this, Jon. It's not healthy! You'll need to be- to get it out eventually. And besides," he says, "you know it feels good, right?"

Jon stares resolutely down at the desk. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Oh, Jon," Martin says in a voice so soft Jon nearly can't bear it. He's just not used to people fussing over him, especially over something so intimate.

"What if I do it?"

That gets Jon to look up. He frowns. "Don't you already?"

Martin gives a fond sigh. "No, Jon. What if- what if I milked you?"

And there it is. There's the word they've all been dancing around. It opens a pit in Jon's stomach at the same time it sends a thrill up his spine. He doesn't know what to say.

Martin presses on. "You've done it for me so many times, Jon, and you've always been so sweet. I could do that for you. I'd take care of you, give you what you need, and I promise I wouldn't take advantage. Come on," he puts a hand over Jon's, smiling softly, "you can trust me."

Somewhere inside him, the last thread of Jon's resolve breaks.

"Okay."

Martin beams. He takes Jon's hand and helps him up, politely not commenting on the little damp patches where the nursing pads are starting to soak through. He leads Jon through the halls and far too soon they're at their destination. The pump room.

Martin coaxes Jon inside. The machine has never looked quite so intimidating. Martin goes over and starts untangling the tubes. When he turns around, Jon is still standing in place.

"Um, you'll want to..."

"Right." Jon doesn't move a muscle.

Martin gives him a reassuring smile. "Hey. Do you want me to help?"

Jon gapes. Then he considers that they probably won't get anything done if he has to push himself through every little action, and nods.

Martin steps over. He puts his hands on Jon's shoulders first, a reassuring weight, then he moves down to the collar of his shirt. Jon's breath goes shaky as he undoes each button, getting lower and lower until the entire shirt is open. Then he pushes it down off Jon's shoulders, and well. There it is.

"Oh, Jon." Martin cups one breast in his hand, and Jon yelps.

"Oh!" Martin pulls his hand away. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking!"

"I-it's alright," Jon stammers. His face is heating up. "I suppose I'd better get used to it now."

Martin lets out a little 'heh'. "Would you like to get started, then?"

Jon nods frantically. He was hesitant before, and he's still scared, but his breasts are aching so much he frankly doesn't care anymore. He just wants this over with.

Martin puts a hand on Jon's shoulder, and Jon sinks to his knees. Neither of them question this. Martin fixes the cups over Jon's teats with tender care. And then he turns on the machine. And it's- it's-

Jon moans helplessly as his milk lets down. Jolts of pleasure start at his tits and arc through his whole body, turning his limbs to jelly. A fog is settling over his mind already. Vaguely he remembers being scared of this, and wonders how he could be so stupid? He loves this. He never wants to leave this room again.

He's swaying on his knees now. His mouth is slightly open and his eyes half lidded. He lets himself stay there for a bit, just soaking in the pleasure of being sucked dry. Then he feels a hand on his head. He looks up and there's Martin, sweet Martin, petting him so gently. Jon hums and smiles, craning into his palm.

"You're doing so well, Jon," Martin whispers, "I'm so proud." Jon shudders. The praise makes him feel so good, but he also suddenly realizes he needs more. He whines.

"Are you alright?" Martin says. Jon ignores him. He fumbles two shaky hands to Martin's hips and pulls him close, mouthing at the bulge in his trousers. Martin gasps and pushes him away gently. 

Martin takes Jon's face in both hands and looks him in the eye. "Jon, are you sure?" Jon whines again and tries to pitch forward out of Martin's grasp, but his hands are too strong. "No, Jon, I'm serious. I know how it feels but I promised I wouldn't take advantage of you and I just- I just really need a yes or no answer, Jon. Please."

Somewhere through the haze, Jon recognizes that Martin is in distress. He decides that's unacceptable. He turns his head and kisses Martin's palm, and Martin gasps. Jon lets his lips linger for a second, then looks up and nods. 

Martin takes a deep, shuddering breath. Then he undoes his trousers.

His cock springs free, already painfully hard, and Jon moans in delight. He takes a moment to suckle at the head, and confirm that yes, it does taste as good as he thought it would. Then he swallows Martin down to the root.

Martin gives a punched-out groan. Jon barely notices. He's in heaven. Martin isn't especially long but he is thick, and he stretches Jon's throat in a way that has him floating. He wonders how he didn't notice how empty he was before. He bobs slightly, just enough to get a breath in once in a while before sliding back down to nose at Martin's pubic hair. 

Martin fists Jon's hair and moans. He doesn't thrust exactly, but he does direct Jon a bit, angling his head and sort of suggesting, with his grip, the speed of his thrusts. Martin keeps the pace slow, and talks to Jon throughout, muttering praise and affection. Eventually though, Martin's self control runs out. His hips start to shudder and jolt, and Jon knows exactly what's about to happen. Right before Martin comes, Jon pulls off just enough to get it across his tongue, and he hums in delight as he drinks Martin down. 

He would have happily kept suckling Martin's soft cock, but Martin pulls out after that. Then he kneels down beside Jon and just stays with him.

Soon Jon's milk runs out, and his moans turn to little hurt noises as the cups suck against his dry teat. Martin cottons on immediately and flips the machine off. Jon collapses like a puppet with its strings cut, falling against Martin's chest, and Martin chuckles softly and reaches between them to pull the cups off. "How are you feeling?" He says into the top of Jon's head.

Jon just groans happily and noses further into Martin's chest. For a moment he just stays there and breathes. But as the moments tick on the fog lifts from his mind, and when he comes back to himself, he realizes something; his pants are soaked. 

He winces and shifts uncomfortably. Martin makes a concerned noise and looks down at him. "Everything alright?"

Jon can't bring himself to look Martin in the eye. "Yes, ah- it's just that I- hm. I can take care of it myself. Later."

Martin's eyes flick to Jon's crotch, and Jon's face turns red. It's clear he's figured out what's going on.

"You could," he says, "if that's what you wanted. Or you could stay here a bit longer and I could help you out?"

Jon's eyes widen and he flounders like a fish. "I-I-I could hardly ask that of you! Not- not after you've already done so much!" Martin laughs, and Jon frowns. "Is something funny?"

"I'm sorry!" Martin says through his giggling. "I'm sorry, it's just- you just gave me the most incredible blow job, and you're acting like I did you the favor?" 

Privately, Jon thinks yes, obviously. His face heats up as he remembers how he'd physically pulled Martin's crotch to his face in desperation. 

"I won't pressure you," Martin continues, "really, you could walk out that door right now and I wouldn't say anything. But if you wanted to... well, it wouldn't be a trouble is all I'm saying. If I'm being honest I'd quite like it."

Jon gives him a considering look. "What were you thinking?" 

"Well I was thinking about fingering you, if you'd like."

And oh, Jon's cunt clenches at that. He nods slowly. "Okay."

Martin beams. "Can I kiss you?"

Jon nods again, and suddenly Martin's lips are on his. Jon's heart skips a beat. His lips are so soft, plush and inviting just like the rest of him. The kisses are small at first, chaste, close-mouthed little things, but then Martin gentles Jon's mouth open with his own and Jon whines. He grips Martin's shoulder, and his hips start making little aborted motions without his say so.

Without breaking the kiss, Martin wanders his hand down to Jon's crotch. He cups Jon in his trousers and Jon moans into his mouth. His fingers move to the zipper, then, and Jon realizes - horror of horrors - he's going to have to move for this. 

He grumbles and breaks away from Martin, shoving his trousers off with muttered curses. He can tell Martin is trying not to laugh. He appreciates the effort at least.

When he finally gets them off, there's a wet patch in his boxer briefs so big its embarrassing. He doesn't have long to dwell on it though, because Martin leans in for another kiss, and suddenly Jon is quite occupied. 

Martin's left hand cups Jon's cheek, while the right begins to wander. He strokes Jon's shoulder at first, squeezing just a bit. Then he runs his hand down Jon's arm. He moves to his side then, conspicuously avoiding Jon's breasts. He thinks it might be meant to spare him something, some humiliation or discomfort that Martin thinks he needs to skirt around, but somehow Jon is disappointed.

But then Martin's hand slips lower, and Jon forgets to be put out. Martin drags a single finger between Jon's lips, making Jon whine. Martin lets out a delighted gasp, and when he pulls his finger back it's glistening.

"Oh," he breathes, "look at you. You're soaked." 

Jon lets out a moan at that, and buries his face in Martin's plush chest. Martin moves the hand on Jon's cheek down to his back, and starts rubbing broad circles. He drags a finger through him again, so lightly as to be infuriating. Jon bucks his hips and makes a frustrated sound. 

Martin kisses the side of his cheek. "You want more?"

"Please!" Jon cries, twisting Martin's shirt in his fists.

Martin hums, then slips two fingers inside Jon's cunt.

Jon gasps. Martin strokes slowly at first, crooking his fingers against a spot that has Jon lighting up inside. He kisses up and down his neck, and Jon sighs and tilts his head to invite more. Then Martin presses the heel of his palm against Jon's clit, and his hips judder. "F- _fuck_."

Martin smiles into Jon's neck and goes back to just his fingers. "Martin!" Jon whines, and Martin laughs.

"It's okay, it's okay. I've got you. I'll make you feel good." He keeps up his infuriatingly slow pace. Jon tries to buck his hips into Martin's fingers but Martin stops him effortlessly with a hand on his hip, and a thrill runs through Jon at the reminder of just how strong he is.

"You're beautiful, you know?" Martin says, kissing Jon's cheek.

Jon huffs. "You hardly have to say that just because - _ah_ \- because we're-"

"I'm not, though." Martin's fingers get a bit faster, and Jon's breath catches in his throat. "I'm saying it because it's true. You're gorgeous, Jon, and it breaks my heart that you don't know it."

Jon looks away. Suddenly everything feels too real. Before he could distance himself, tell himself that Martin was just doing him a favor because he's nice like that. But this- this is almost too much to handle. 

"You're beautiful no matter what you're doing," Martin presses on. "You're beautiful when you're concentrating, and you get that little frown." He kisses Jon's neck. "You're beautiful when you're laughing and I can see your dimples." Jon makes an embarrassed sound. He didn't know he _had_ dimples. "You were beautiful the other day, when you got yogurt on your cheek and tried to lick it off-"

"You saw that!?" Jon yelps, and Martin laughs.

"Yes, and it was _beautiful_. You're amazing, Jon, and I want you to know that. Please, can you just let me tell you?"

"I… suppose." Jon mutters.

Martin smiles, and captures Jon's lips in a kiss. He has a second to melt into it before Martin grinds up against his clit again, and Jon moans into his mouth. This time he doesn't stop. He strikes up a steady rhythm, pumping his fingers in and out and pressing against Jon's clit on every stroke. Jon breaks the kiss, panting heavily.

"You're so good, Jon. So good for me." Jon whines. Martin takes his free hand and starts stroking up and down Jon's flank, a steady, even pressure. "Can I give you another finger?" Martin asks. Jon nods frantically and Martin slips a third finger inside him, and the stretch is so delicious Jon throws his head back and wails. It occurs to him, belatedly, that people might be able to hear them. It also occurs to him that he doesn't really care.

Martin is kissing him everywhere now, his face and neck and shoulders, anywhere he can reach. Between every kiss he whispers praise; telling Jon he's beautiful, lovely, kind, sweet. Meanwhile his fingers never falter. He fucks Jon like he's been waiting to his whole life. Pleasure coils tight in Jon's belly, radiating until even his limbs are tingling with it. He bucks his hips swears, and he thinks for a second that he's going to come, but he hits a plateau. He whines in frustration. Just like before, something is missing.

"Martin," he pleads, breathy and wrecked. Martin slows his fingers, and Jon bats at his arm. "No, don't _stop."_

Martin grins and starts back up again. "What is it, Jon?"

"I need- oh!" A particularly hard thrust knocks the breath out of him. "Martin, Martin I need- ah- AH- please,"

Martin kisses him on the neck. "You know you're going to have to spit it out for me to know what you want."

"My tits!" Jon cries, "Please, Martin, suck on my tits!"

Martin actually looks taken aback. His fingers stop again, and Jon whines, bucking his hips impatiently.

"Oh, Jon," Martin breathes, "lovely, perfect Jon." Then he tips them over, and suddenly Jon is lying on the floor with Martin over him. It's a breathtaking view. Martin takes up the whole of his vision, like a barrier between him and the rest of the world. He feels safer here than he has in a long while.

Then Martin takes Jon's teat in his mouth, and Jon wails.

Apparently they've been at this long enough for a little bit of milk to build back up, because he feels a gush of fluid, and Martin is swallowing happily. He puts his free hand on Jon's other breast and starts coaxing milk out, drawing it to spill down Jon's side in little rivulets. That dozy haze settles back over Jon's mind. Martin starts back up with his fingers and Jon moans; this is what he was missing. His hands scrabble uselessly against the hardwood floor, his eyes rolling back in his head as the pleasure builds and builds and builds. 

"Oh- OH- M-Martin, I'm-"

All at once, Jon comes. His spine arches and he howls, trembling. Martin works him through it, fingering and sucking him until the pleasure turns to pain and Jon bats him away.

For a moment they just stay there. Jon takes great heaving breaths, and Martin strokes his hair as he waits for him to recover. Finally, Jon's breath evens out to where he thinks he can trust himself to speak. "Well," he says, his voice a bit hoarse, "that was something."

Martin chuckles. "It certainly was. You're gorgeous when you come, you know." 

Jon huffs and looks away, which only makes Martin giggle again.

"Er, Jon?"

"Yes?" Jon turns back to see Martin looking almost embarrassed. 

Martin scratches the back of his head. "What do you want me to do with the milk?"

Oh. Jon turns to the breast pump, and the container is indeed quite full. It's hard to imagine all that came out of him. He considers for a moment. If Martin had asked him this morning, he would have said to throw it out with no hesitation. But now, after seeing Martin suck so hungrily at his breast... 

Jon turns to Martin, and can barely believe himself when he says, "You have jars somewhere around here, yes?"


End file.
